Translation: MASHRUR IMTIAZ
Along the shore of my chest
The sand sighs and lies down.
Burning midday sun, parched wood, exhaustion
Looking forward to the loving sunset.
As soon as it rose, the sun fried the pomfret
On occasion, dolphins pay a visit…
Salty water is a lost soul who falls in love while being an unknown tourist.
Descent of an anchor into the ocean of gazes
The sea’s insatiable desire washes away the breastbone.
Seagull serenades as he lies on the nightbed.
Why does honey consume poison?
Why bother being sad after you’re dead when you don’t have to?
Whoever departs turns into ash or dust.
Without sadness,
It’s time for a genuine people’s coven.
With the exception of humans and earth,
There will be no repercussions.
Human refers earth, and human denotes illusion.
Within the domain of our transformed selves we reside,
In the same building, but with different exteriors.
Sleeping together without physical contact,
Our bond fades, it signifies a great deal.
Misspellings, not deliberate but nevertheless
Despite physical contact, emotions are more easily forgotten.
A funeral pyre now, once afire with passion’s light.
A dying tree’s destiny, love’s downfall,
Weight of habit, nightly ritual.
Perched side by side are two cushions,
In the middle of a dead river, our love splits.
We are bound together by an invisible thread,
Perched precariously, hidden from view.
In the realm of our map, no summary found,
As the elastic tunnel stretches, boundless ground.
An extension of the flyover, we soar high,
Towards the tunnel, reaching for the sky.
Happiness dwells where greatness lies,
Moonlight’s allure, we do not prize.
Exiting the tunnel, a path unknown,
Open or closed, its mystery shown.
On the right, thoughts expand and grow,
Love beckons, into the tunnel we go.
In the quiet of a Saturday morning,
He sips a cup of tea by the window.
From Davidoff’s bitter escape, it was a daily ritual,
As once he was indulged into black coffee.
The streets remain still, traffic yet to stir,
A truck halts abruptly, its cargo unloaded.
A solitary billboard catches his eye,
Obscuring the view from his home.
Advertisements now dominate his once-serene vista,
The contents of the billboard remain a mystery.
Unable to decipher from his vantage point,
He resigns to his tea-drinking solitude.
Alone now, his coffee companion departed,
He seeks solace in the gentler embrace of tea.
The next day, a stranger passes by,
Fixing their gaze on the looming ”For Sale” sign.
Our everything was sold out in no time at all.
Huge, enormous, love, relationship—and what else?
Shourav Sikder is a poet, professor of linguistics and director at the Scandinavian Study Centre, Dhaka University.
